


Murder Forest Blues

by gjeoff (deanwin)



Category: PNWS - Fandom, TANIS - Fandom, Tanis (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Internal Monologue, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, alternative take on the s2 finale, in which nic has his priorities straight (lol), it literally has the word 'blues' in the title, murder forest, nic makes bad choices and i want to fix some of them, rated for language, this isn't the fluff we all want and deserve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwin/pseuds/gjeoff
Summary: Alternate version of the s2 finale.In which Geoff Van Sant disappears, Nic Silver stumbles through a forest for ages, and evil entities ruin everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I havent written anything in a long time. And this was written on my phone. I tried to catch as many typos as possible but please let me know if you see any glaring ones.
> 
> concrit is welcome, even though i dont know what i'm doing with this

'Mike! Mike, what are you doing?!' 

Stumbling through the thick undergrowth and getting increasingly more lost in the slowly darkening woods hadn't been Nic's plan. This was the reason he liked having Geoff at his side, because the man's impeccable (and frankly incredible) sense of orientation slightly made up for Nic's total lack thereof.  
It wasn't that Nic had no sense of direction. He and Alex used to go camping with their families every summer. Normal woods didn't mess up his sense of direction and send him into either dissociative fugues or a panicked frenzy.  
Tanis did.  
He could feel the wrongness of the area surrounding him even through the hum which urged him forward. In spite of the high he experienced every time he spent a while there, he knew this wasn't good for him. Nothing comes without a cost.

The rational part of his mind constantly reminded him of this, urging him to ignore the base, instinctual need to go deeper into the woods as nightfall approached. He could do this.

He could do this, he was a goddamn grown man looking for his missing friend. No mystical forests should come before Geoff's well being. And yet here he was, slowly feeling himself slip into the fuguelike state he had come to know so well.

The woods no longer felt enormous and insurmountable, they were calling to him, telling him precisely where to go, how to find the Calm and Carter and his fate.

Nic forced himself to focus. Years of journalism and recreational drug use gave him both the ability to stick to a story until he saw the end of it, and personal knowledge if what it feels like to have your mind tampered with. Under normal circumstances, he might let it happen. Might choose the story of Tanis and what might happen to himself tonight over a missing vet. He might even try to rationalize it. Remind himself that the call could be a fake. Find comfort in the knowledge that Geoff has combat training and amazing orientation and will be fine.  
But these are not normal circumstances.  
With all the time he's been losing, the maybe-hallucinations of wrong constellations, the Tanis induced high, it's possible that Nic is to blame for Geoff's disappearance.

What if he had made the call? What if Tanis had taken control, making him call the one person he'd be sure to look for? MK disappeared all the time, switching devices and never leaving anything possibly incriminating. Alex would've had his head for suggesting a jaunt to the woods, she'd never go out there on her own.

But Geoff would. Trusting, capable Geoff, who never asked to be part if this mess. Geoff, whose only crime was being the brother of a man whose obsession was almost rivaled by Nic's. Geoff who made Nic his friend, made Nic's dog love him and always had a cool beer to offer, if not answers to life's mysteries.

Nic thought back to the beginning of their friendship, of the six-hour Guinness session where he somehow convinced Geoff he was worthwhile despite being a blundering mess. He thought of all the times he blew Geoff off in favor of getting sucked in deeper into the world of Tanis, and felt bad. Had Karl been the same? Slowly losing touch with reality as he slipped deeper into obsession? Geoff deserved better than losing everyone in his life to the same madness. And now Nic's obsession had gotten him in harm's way.

 

With a start, Nic wrenched himself out of the spiral of doubt that had swallowed him. His feet had kept moving while he was thinking, but his thoughts had fought off the Hum. This wasn't the aimless dreamlike wandering caused by the pull of a nefarious power, it was pure instinct, his body doing its job despite the mind's confusion.

As he looked around the ever darker forest, Nic noticed a red string tied around one of the trees. This was familiar territory, the trees less densely packed together, a path clear just a few yards away.

Breaking into a jog, Nic maneuvered around the trees, instinct driving him and guiding him to the wreck of the old Cessna. The plane out of time was there, looking the same as ever. No sign of anyone.

Doubting his sanity even more now, Nic started inspecting his surroundings. The stars were shining, familiar constellations comforting him.


	2. Chapter 2

As the last streaks of daylight slowly disappeared and the forest grew ever colder, Nic finally began to panic.

Sure, he wasn't exactly calm before, but now the darkness had swallowed him whole and all the terrors he'd witnessed flooded back into his mind's eye. Tara, offering him her bloodied arm, the dark shadowy beasts that he knew stalked through the forest, Mike's bloodshot eyes as he charged at Nic earlier.

It was a miracle he was still able to sleep for almost a full two hours at a time.

Right now he felt as if he'd never be able to fall asleep again. His heart was racing, a frantic staccato beating against his chest as he struggled to breathe. He'd failed. Nightfall had come, he was in the woods, exactly where Carter and Veronika wanted him, even if they hadn't found him yet. It was only a matter of time. And he'd failed Geoff.

He'd failed him for what might very well be the last time, because Tanis was unforgiving, unwilling to let its prey go once it had it in its maw. And Nic alone was to blame. Even if he didn't make the call himself, which he wasn't even sure about, Geoff was still involved because he cared for him.  
Nic knows for a fact that Geoff would've been more than happy to let the 'supernatural bullshit', as he called it, go after Karl's death. It was Nic who involved him in it again, peaked his interest.

_God, he remembers one of their drinking sessions like it was yesterday. They'd both been feeling a slight buzz from the beer, stretched out on Nic's couch with True Companion curled up between them. Nic had tried to convince the labrador that she was under no circumstances a lapdog, but Geoff just laughed it off and proceeded to pet her head as she made herself comfortable between them. Nic felt a pang of betrayal at his dog's adoration of Geoff, but seeing them on his couch together filled him with a warmth that couldn't all be chalked up to the beer._  
_The TV was on, showing some inane pseudo-documentary, but Nic wasn't listening. He and Geoff were talking about everything and nothing, comfortable chatter that filled the hours. As it got late, the conversation shifted to work, and of course, to Tanis._

_Somehow conversations always turned to Tanis._  
_That evening had been different though, Geoff wasn't offering up as many theories or friendly advice. Nic could feel something weighing on his friend._

_'Geoff, what's wrong, man? We don't have to talk about all the Tanis stuff if you're tired of it', Nic told him quickly. He really hoped he hadn't annoyed Geoff with his obsessiveness. Friends like Geoff were in short supply, and Nic couldn't stand the thought of losing the friendship which had built so unexpectedly._

_'It's nothing, buddy', Geoff said with a sigh that clearly indicated there was more to be said._

_'It's just...Fuck. It's just that, when you talk about your mystery, about goddamn Tanis or whatever it is, I think if Karl.'_

_'Shit, Geoff, I'm so sorry, I should've known it might bring back bad memories, and here I am badgering you about it', Nic was fully in apology-mode, already beating himself up mentally over being so inconsiderate._

_'No, no, Nic,you've got it wrong. I feel bad because every time you talk about it I'm fascinated. I listen to the podcast, I love going out to the woods and it's such a fucking thrill to be on the trail of something this huge. But I know Karl felt the same. And I could never stand to listen to his crazy shit. He was my brother, Nic. Yeah, we were never close, but the fact that he commited.. that he died just a stairwell away from where I was and that I had no clue.. It just makes me fucking sick sometimes, man.'_

_With a defeated sigh, Geoff sank deeper into the couch, bottle to his lips. If he was petting TC's soft ears a bit more desperately than usual, no one needed to know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote my pal, my buddy, Alex (butterfucks on tumblr): 'Žef is life'. I agree. So here's another chapter where nothing happens. THe thing is, I'm probably going to be rewriting it a bunch. So it might change. Think of it as Tanis: ever changing, but always some real shit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things fall apart, the center cannot hold..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'why the fuck are you still writing this?' You ask, noting that there's no feedback on this story. You see that i clearly dont have too high an opionion of it, so why are there daily chapters?
> 
> The answer, of course, is that i have no fucking clue why im writing this. Boredom? Wanting to keep the tag alive? A deep inexplicable Hum in my head that only softens if i keep writing about tanis? Love for Geoff? Your guess is as good as mine.
> 
> Also, this note is longer than the chapter itself. Not sorry.
> 
> Btw should i kick up the rating bc strong language and shit? Afaik the only curses are IN THE AUTHOR'S NOTES but ehhh

Nic's legs were throbbing with pain and effort as he once again hiked up a hill, aiming for a better vantage point and hoping to finally see any trace of Geoff.

It was dark. Moonlight shone through the canopy of leaves overhead, but it was barely enough to keep Nic from stumbling and doing something incredibly stupid, like breaking his ankle. He had to remain focused on the task at hand, otherwise the Blur would once again try to guide him towards the Calm. He wanted to help Sam and Morgan, certainly, and Veronika didn't appear to be a threat, but they were already too deep in this mess for Nic to be able to save them. With Geoff, he could at least try.

Finding Geoff now, getting him out of any trouble he might have found himself in, would be the least he could do. A way to make up for everything Geoff had suffered through because of Tanis, a way to ask forgivness for getting him involved in all of this. If it hadn't been for Nic and his fascination with Tanis, Geoff would still be safe.  
But Nic was too selfish to wish Geoff had never met him. The other man was a grounding,solid presence when the rest of the world seemed to fall out of balance. But Geoff was more than just a convenient source of support. Nic had found himself genuinely caring for Geoff.  
After the first few weeks kf their acquaintance Nic had spent trying to keep their relationship strictly professional, Geoff had truly grown on him. He was a kind, honest and genuinely good person. Nic hadn't met too many genuinely good people in his line of work. Everyone always had their own goals they were working towards. Geoff, it seemed, just wanted to help, to be Nic's friend and support him. And he didn't do it in a sanctimonius, holier-than-thou manner so many people who thought of themselves as good did. 

He didn't pretend to be perfect. In fact, he made it clear he wasn't and didn't consider himself to be. That's what had struck a chord with Nic. The honesty, the approachable nature and dry humor, which hid the horrors he'd been through.

Nic didn't consider himself to be a saviour-type. He was a witness, once even the Witness, he was the guy discovering and reporting, but not the one changing things.

But if there was ever a time in his life Nic wished he were the type to swoop in and save someone, it was now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason i keep typing this godforsaken thing on my phone. I feel like i owe the collective fandom an apology.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it count as a daily update if midnight has passed? Yes. I don't care, it counts, I even sat down in front of my frickin laptop for this one. Which should hopefully mean a) less typos and b) sentences that actually make sense because I can see what I've written.
> 
> Enjoy!

The thing about time being so  _weird_ in Tanis is that one doesn't notice it as it's happening. Nic was convinced he'd only progressed a little further into the forest, lost in thought, but as he looked up from the ground he'd been watching so cautiously in order to avoid tripping he saw a strange clearing ahead. The clearing was just large enough that he should've been able to notice it much earlier, the way it just  _appeared_ in Nic's way indicating that he had once again lost time.

At least, that was one possibility. The other one was still too fantastical to believe right away, that the clearing had simply appeared once Tanis saw it fit. Despite his exposure to things he knew could not easily be described by science or reason, Nic had a hard time imagining a suspicious clearing just popping into existence yards away from him.

And yet, which option was worse? That Nic's rescue mission was completely misguided, because he couldn't even keep track of his own whereabouts, let alone find and help Geoff? Or that a mysterious and unfathomable power was actively changing his surroundings with every second, leaving both him and Geoff at the mercy of a possibly, no, probably, malevolent ancient spiritual entity?   
Both seemed equally uncomfortable and Nic would've loved nothing more than to be able to just  _stop.  
_ To stop this mad scramble through an ever-changing forest and just know that he can go home, that TC will be there, and that Geoff would be waiting, beer in hand. That they'd both be unharmed, unmarred by the sickly traces Tanis left in everyone's mind.

Standing maybe two feet away from the clearing, Nic waits. Observes. Tries to make out anything in the dim light of the stars and moon. And he thinks.

Thinks about how it would have been if he had never gotten  _this_ involved. If he'd stuck to research, but not dangerous research that would warrant kidnappings, or break-ins, or a shady job working for an even shadier man. If he had just discovered the surface layer of the mystery of Tanis and called it a day. Maybe he and MK would've still become friends even if she didn't have to dig as deeply. What if he'd met Geoff and the story of Tanis never continued to be a topic of conversation beyond that first meeting? He's absolutely certain that Geoff would've still invited him over, that even in this imaginary world he'd be just as kind and starving for company under his nonchalant exterior. 

Entertaining the thought further as he waits for anything to happen in the clearing, Nic lets his mind wander. 

If Nic hadn't been obsessed with Tanis he could've been a much better friend to Geoff. Not that the other man would ever let Nic claim to be a bad friend, but Geoff wasn't there to hear Nic's self-doubt, so he continued down this line of thought. Another Nic, one that he might more easily recognize as  _himself_ than the person he's become at this point, would have made sure to offer as much support as he received. Geoff had just lost his brother, for god's sake. Nic would have spent more time with Geoff, sublty nudging him towards sharing his feelings, no longer keeping everything bottled up under his bro-ey facade. Never prying, just... trying to help. Focusing on other people was what Nic did best. Interviewing them or just talking, he was a good listener. He's not sure when that stopped being a fundamental truth about himself. Sure, he could still have a normal conversation, especially with Geoff grounding him, but work stuff,  _Tanis stuff_ always forced its way to the surface, ruining whatever moment of vulnerability or connection they had managed to create.

A nagging voice in the back of his head had Nic returning to reality. There was no point thinking of what could have been. No point to fantasizing about a simpler world where things could have been so much less complicated.

He can spend the next week immersed in wishful thinking, as long as he finds Geoff first.

 

Any forest at night is frightening in its way. Creatures that don't show their hides in the sunlight slowly prowling though the undergrowth, everything much more active than it was during the day.

Tanis at night isn't frightening, it's mortifying. Distracting himself from the hum in his ears and the acid in his throat by daydreaming is the only thing he can do. Because there are things lurking.

Lurking in the shadows, just outside of Nic's field of vision there seems to be an entire universe of  _things_ , wrong and dangerous things. For the entirety of his ill-advised nightly hike through the woods he hasn't seen any of them, but he'd been feeling their presence in the shivers running down his spine, like the feeling of someone is looming behind you as you type, or the moment just as you pull the curtains shut and you could swear that something was outside, waiting, watching.

He still couldn't see them, thankfully. But the sensation was growing stronger, the trees around the clearing, the same trees behind which he was still waiting seemed to  _thrum._ An almost imperceptible vibration of air, like the distortion over car roofs in the summer hear. The trees were no longer shelter, they had turned out to be the very thing he should have been avoiding. As the Hum once again grew louder, Nic knew it was time. He knew what he had to do.

He stepped out into the clearing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger? Maybe. It's late. More coming soon. 
> 
> Next up: creepy tables (altars? you decide). some dudes being bros. GEOFF.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo boy, let's do this! When I started this I had no idea whatsoever where the story would go. I have a clue now.   
> Things actually happen in this chapter!  
> Thanks so much to everyone who left comments and kudos, you're the reason I'm even writing this

Entering the clearing was like stepping into a bubble.

The humming sound seemed to have moved from Nic's mind into the real world, enveloping him and creating a pocket of reality somehow divergent from the rest of the forest. The flickering of the great invisible beasts created a blur around the clearing, separating it even further from the world. 

In the clearing the air seemed thicker, warmer. The stale, musty smell seemed like it should belong in a long subterranean corridor that leads nowhere, or a cave with no entrance. Instead it was engulfing Nic, forcing bile and acid to accumulate in his throat. The smell itself wasn't intense or aggravating, but it induced nausea. It was so  _wrong,_ misplaced. The dead air was a confirmation that this clearing was different, belonging to Tanis in its entirety; separate from the rest of the forest.

Swallowing the bile in the back of his throat, Nic had to fight back prickling tears from his eyes. As he spent more time in the clearing the scent seemed to just get more vile. Every second wasted meant suffering the smell of decay and death for even longer.

Drawing breaths as shallow as possible, Nic gazed around the clearing, forcing himself to not be distracted by the constant flickering of his vision or the putrid smell. The clearing itself was smallish in size, roughly circular with next to no identifying markers. There was one. A stone block, rather large in size; on the side of the clearing directly opposite of Nic. It wasn't looming threateningly, nor was it displayed in the centre of the clearing, and yet it intensified the sense of unease. It was unevenly shaped, Nic saw as he approached it carefully. Clearly not the product of careful labor, something wilder and completely unrefined. Despite its rustic appearance the stone was monolithic; drawing everything towards itself. In the starlight it seemed completely black, but even from several feet away Nic could see parts of the stone glistening wetly. 

Nic suddenly recalled one of his more disturbing segments he had recorded for the podcast. As he was assembling and patching together anything that might have relevance to the strangeness of Tanis, the myth of the Manitu had caught his attention. Despite the fact that it only seemed to be a all encompassing spiritual entity in the original stories, Nic's mind immediately latched onto the idea of it. And his sleep deprived mind had extrapolated, combining everything he had read and heard and  _lived through_ into nightmares of epic proportions. Recording his thoughts on the matter was especially troubling because he had little to nothing to back up his strange feeling. And yet the thought of being forced to sacrifice something important to a mystical spiritual entity would not leave him.  
And now here he was.

Standing maybe four feet away from the stone; which he now saw came roughly up to his hips, he struggled to find a word to describe it in his mind other than  _altar._ He tried to think  _tabletabletable_ to himself, to try and fight off the sense of foreboding by giving the frightening thing a common name. He failed.

The ground closer to the altar seemed muddier, not like it had rained recently, but as if the earth itself had been soaked until saturation for decades, like the beginning of a bog. The wet glint of the stone was darker than it had seemed.

Nic made the last few steps, feeling his shoes sink into the ground ever so slightly. Even before he could touch the altar he knew what the source of the wetness was. He knew what he would see once he touched the surface. And yet he knew he had to do it. Had to confirm that he was right about the source of the rusty color. 

Every single horror movie in his life hadn't prepared him for the sensation. The feeling of dark, sticky blood coating his fingers. The blood was unevenly splattered over the surface of the rock, sliding down the sides in some places, but the amount of blood wasn't what was shocking.

No, what truly made Nic's stomach lurch, what almost made him vomit all over the altar, was the fact that the blood was still warm. Warmer than the musty air, warmer than anything should be after resting on a stone slab in the middle of the night.

The buzz of the clearing was deafening at this point, Nic's mind urgently retreating into itself as his body fought to keep the measly contents of his stomach down.

Choking on his own breath, Nic sank to his knees in front of the stone. He pressed his burning forehead against the cool side of the altar, encircling himself with his arms as he wheezed. It felt exactly like his childhood asthma attacks, like fists closing around his lungs and he struggled without success and-

And he inhaled.

A single, deep breath sank into his lungs. Then another. The air was still stinking of decay, but at least Nic felt as if he was no longer actively dying. Only passively, the way everything near Tanis seems so much more impermanent. 

 

And through his labored breaths, through the buzz that was both inside and around him, through the frantic beating of his heart audible in his ears- Nic heard another tortured groan. His heart skipped several beats, first in terror and then surprise and finally in  _hope._ As he scrambled to his feet, slipping on the wet ground and using the altar as support, he heard more whimpers and heavy breaths. The buzz had quieted. 

Circling the stone altar, leaning heavily against it, Nic made it to its other side. And there, curled up around himself and laid beneath the altar, was Geoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, whoever catches the silly, silly meme reference fist gets bragging rights.
> 
> Second, usage of the word bog is totally intentional. Lesson time! A bog is a marshland with acidic properties... a marshy area with BASIC properties however is called a ....fen. 
> 
> yup. learned that one from tumblr, found it hilarious and had to include it here somehow.  
> (also fens have fluctuations in water levels and are richer in nutrients than bogs, providing life support for more different species but that's not as funny as tanis being basic)
> 
> also i pretty much lied when i said something happened in this chapter but not really? You've read it, you tell me. I don't know how to do ~action~ or even ~activity~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not posting for three days, uni has started so I'm a bit short on time.
> 
> I'm hoping to develop this story further, and there should be at least one longer chapter coming this weekend.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!

The word 'panic' couldn't even begin to describe what Nic was feeling as he sank to his knees at Geoff's side. 

  


Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, making his heart beat frantically and causing his hands, no, his entire body to shake as if he were being electrocuted.

Nic's fumbling, shaking hands were on Geoff's shoulders, his face, trying to shake the other man into consciousness,  but all that came were weak whimpering sounds and a horrible wheeze that came with every breath Geoff took.   


There was no way for Nic to move him, to save them both from whatever was lurking in the woods if Geoff didn't wake up. He was not much taller than Nic, but his wiry strength gave him a solidity that ensured that Geoff would not be easily carried. 

  


In lieu of shaking him further and possibly making matters worse, Nic began to assess the damage. The rational part of his brain told him that that should have been his first step,  instead of clutching Geoff's still form and begging him to wake _up, just please wake up,  don't go, it's not your time yet._

No, it wasn't Geoff's fault he got involved with Nic and his obsession, so he should not be the one suffering the consequences. 

  


Nic slowly but firmly straightened Geoff's position, uncurling him from the almost foetal state he'd found him in. Despite the fear and adrenaline in his system, Nic recalled the first aid classes he'd taken during college. At the time they were a bit of a bother. He thought he would never need them. Like anyone in his twenties, Nic knew for a fact that he was invulnerable.

Back then it had been comforting to think that bad things only happened to other people. Now,  as he looked at the man who'd somehow managed to become such a fixture in his life; Nic realised that bad things happening to other people was no comfort at all. He felt as if every single cut he could make out on Geoff's body was on his own, the pain amplified by the overwhelming guilt he felt.

  


And the wounds... There were even more than Nic had realised at first. Red gashes across Geoff's sternum and down his entire chest, the plaid shirt and tee he'd worn were bloodied and so torn they served no purpose at all.

  


Nic carefully tore off the remains of the shirt so he could more carefully inspect Geoff. There was a lot of blood, taking into account what had been spilled on the altar, but the gashes were not as deep as they seemed at first. While blood loss and the cold had certainly weakened Geoff considerably, the other man should have still been able to stay conscious based on the visible injuries. In fact, it seemed as if Geoff was on some kind of daze, teetering on the edge of consciousness but something was keeping him down. 

With a flash of pure rage Nic remembered his own experiences with the Cult of Tanis.  He and Geoff had made a shadowy religious group their enemies, and said group had a dangerous propensity for drugging people. It also had several imposing bodyguard-like members. Not even Geoff, with all his military experience and strength would be a match for four men twice his weight.  Nic shuddered. 

  


Even in the dark, Nic could see the rise and fall of Geoff's chest as the man struggled to come to awareness. He was abnormally pale, his usually tan skin desaturated, except in the places that were caked with blood. 

  


It was because of the way the dark blood was spread against Geoff's front that Nic hadn't paid more attention to the gashes. They were cuts, but the edges were frayed, as if they were caused by a spiked or old and blunted knife. 

Geoff's breathing had begun evening out, indicating that he was no longer struggling against whatever had been in his system. Nic held the other man, whispering encouragements as he slowly inched towards awareness. 

All his attention on Geoff's face,  Nic didn't even notice the way the moonlight illuminated the man's chest, making the gashes clearly visible. 

Despite the dried blood obscuring it a little,  it was still recognizable- the familiar pattern of circles and a line Nic had seen so often already. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When in doubt blame the cult. So this is ending up using more material from the finale than I expected tbh
> 
> Sorry it's short, I've been forced to work on my phone AGAIN. Because otherwise I don't have the time to write and I really want to finish this. 
> 
> I luv everyone who's still reading okay


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide mention and somewhat graphic descriptions of a dead body (in a flashback), but no worse than canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooo boi, so it's been three weeks. Sorry about that. The story is back on track now though! Updates will be infrequent but there will be updates.  
> Shoutout to the tanis discord server (which i literally just joined last night but is inspiring af and has the best ideas)
> 
> And thanks to anyone who's still reading this! Being in a small fandom can be frustrating and I'm really sorry for not being better at updating this.  
> But given the fact that this is almost turning into a serious story I'm considering reforming the summary and tags, so like, don't be surprised when the bs-summary disappears and gets replaced by something that actually indicates plot.
> 
> The author's note is too long AGAIN. I feel like I'm on ff.net in 2009

It had started with a voicemail. An incredibly  _weird_ voicemail seemingly left by Nic, from his work number.

The recording was  _off_  in a way Geoff couldn't pin down right away. The sentences and even words disjointed, the quality of the audio varying wildly. But it was Nic, there was no doubt about that. And so Geoff did what he always did when Nic asked him for something, he complied as quickly as possible, shooting back a quick call to the studio, only to be redirected to voicemail, which was...strange, to say the least. Usually there was always someone at the Pacific Northwest Studios office, waiting for clues or threats to be phoned in by listeners.

But still, Nic's voicemail had sounded urgent despite the weirdness of it, and so Geoff hadn't even questioned it before getting into his car and driving towards the location of the old Cessna, where Nic had told him to meet him. The drive was not long, but boring enough for doubts to start filling Geoff's head. That voicemail really _was_ weird. What if Nic had been trying to send him a secret message that he was somewhere against his will? What if he was in danger and trying to call for help without raising suspicion? There had to be  _some_ explanation for the strange pacing and interruptions. Geoff felt his heartbeat growing faster as he nudged his gas pedal further down. He was probably violating several traffic laws by speeding like this, but it didn't matter. What mattered was getting to Nic as soon as possible and making sure he was alright.

Trekking through the woods to the ruins of the plane was remarkably easy as adrenaline pumped through Geoff. The sky was only just starting to take on a pinkish hue, he had more than enough time to make sure that Nic was doing okay. The other man had been more distant lately, especially after his encounter with Veronika. Nic had avoided speaking of it, but had mentioned that Veronika and the Grackles wanted him in the forest tonight for some reason. After that he had become quiet, quickly excusing himself and heading home from the bar they'd been at at the time. A day had passed between that and the strange voicemail, so Geoff was naturally worried. Nic had stopped his habit of avoiding him pretty early on, and Geoff was ecstatic that they had grown close, but now Nic seemed to be putting up walls again.

Often, Geoff wondered if he'd been coming on too strong at the beginning of their acquaintance, if that had been the reason for Nic's long periods of radio silence.  
It wasn't until a late night spent watching old horror movies and laughing at them that Geoff had asked Nic about it. He wasn't sure what had made him ask the question. He would try denying that it was the way Nic's face lit up when he talked about the history of the hilariously bad monsters, the slightly embarrassed flush that rose to his cheeks when he mentioned D&D campaigns he'd enjoyed in college, or the endearing little jolt Nic tried to hide when the monster suddenly jumped out of hiding. No, none of those were the reason Geoff was determined to find out why Nic had avoided him at first. He'd blame the beer they'd been drinking, and the fact that it was midnight and they were still laying on Geoff's couch, closer than they were at the beginning of the evening.  
And Nic had fallen silent once Geoff brought up those first weeks. The flickering lights from the screen illuminated his face and danced across his curls as Geoff looked at him. When he finally spoke, his voice was full with the things he was leaving unsaid. 

But what he said was merely: "I wasn't sure it would be ethical to spend personal time with a source, especially when I had basically no idea where the story would take us."

Geoff nodded at that, breaking his gaze away from Nic's face.

"Well, it sure seems like you're no longer concerned with ethics, because here we are", Geoff supplied jokingly, hoping to lighten the suddenly much too serious atmosphere.

Nic smiled softly, his gaze slightly unfocused for a second. Instead of immediately laughing or returning the banter, he stared at his hands before quietly replying: "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose you're right". After that he laughed, his body language switching to relaxed and friendly, instead of the shyness that had been there for those few curious moments.

Geoff had laughed the moment off as well, but it often made its way back into his head. He remembered that evening fondly, and more vividly than any of the other countless movie nights and hangouts they'd had.

Geoff wasn't stupid, he knew perfectly well why his heart swelled every time he was with Nic, why he cared about the man so much that he would drop everything and drive to the woods because of a voicemail. And yet he refused to admit it to himself. He refused to entertain the idea that between the supernatural mysteries and the late nights spent talking about their lives, his and Nic's friendship had developed into something  _more_ on Geoff's end. Because if he considered the idea of there being something, he might no longer be content with what he had.

  
And if there was something Geoff Van Sant had known from a young age, it was that you should be happy with what you have. Dreaming about  _more_ would get you nowhere. _Dreaming about more_ was what Karl did. Had done. And Geoff would not be like his brother in that regard.  
No, he would finish his time in the army, and be done with it. Karl finished his time, but he'd continued working on classified projects for classified entities- and he had ended up swollen and purple, hanging from the ceiling for his little brother to find, a grotesque caricature of the man he once was.

Geoff would not follow in his brother's footsteps in that regard, he would be content with what he had and not ruin it with delusions and hopes. Instead, he'd continue to be the best friend he could possibly be, he'd try to get his mind of those feelings, maybe try online dating after all. Surely after some time his heart would no longer soar whenever Nic agreed to hang out together, his pulse would no longer quicken when his phone rang and he got invited on another hike through the woods.

And yet, that moment hadn't come yet.

Geoff still got giddy whenever he got to spend time with Nic, despite his own best attempts to not think of his friend as anything other than a friend. He couldn't help wondering what Nic's relationships with the other people he had on the show was like. Sure, Geoff knew quite a lot about them, but he always  _wondered,_ unconsciously afraid that he was crossing a boundary simply by wanting to know, by hoping that there was no one else. That- even if all they ever had happened to be friendship, what he and Nic had would still hold a special place in Nic's life.

 

Meeting Nic was quite possibly the best thing that had happened to Geoff, and it was certainly better than anything he would have dared to hope for. Geoff didn't dare hope for much, not after seeing war and destruction and death, not after witnessing the slow destruction of his brother's mind. Hope was reserved for people who didn't know just how badly things could go. So when he met Nic, Geoff just went with it. Let it develop organically, with no hope beyond not fucking things up. And what he'd gotten was so much  _more,_ it was good in a way Geoff had forgotten things could be. 

 

So when he was waiting underneath the tall tree holding the ruined aircraft, Geoff was stressed. His mind had wandered to the great parts of knowing Nic, but his body was stuck in one of the horrible parts. The constant uncertainty, never knowing when that lovable Canadian idiot would get himself into trouble again and almost make Geoff's heart stop by pulling the stupidest stunts. Like drinking tea that was doubtlessly drugged, getting involved in vast conspiracies, working for a man he couldn't stand just because it might bring something new to the story. And yet, Geoff couldn't feel anything but fond exasperation in retrospect. All those things were so  _Nic,_ such an integral part of his brilliant but too trusting nature- Geoff simply couldn't resent Nic for it. But he could fret for his safety, and do his damn best to keep Nic as safe as possible, for as long as the reporter would let him.

Letting his mind wander in the middle of a forest that was the scene of so much trouble already wasn't the smartest decision of Geoff's life. He'd realized this even before he'd felt a sharp pain in his neck and found a tranq-dart stuck in his skin. But by then it was already too late. As he felt the tranquilizer stealing away his consciousness, Geoff's thoughts were on Nic. It seemed like Nic wasn't the one in trouble after all. Or maybe they already had him? With the last of his strength, Geoff tried wrenching the dart from his flesh, tried inspecting his surroundings to make sure than Nic hadn't been taken already- but his body betrayed him.  
His muscles no longer obeyed him and he fell onto the soft ground.

From the corner of his eye, Geoff could see the sky.

 

Once his eyes closed everything became a blur. He could hear faint voices at some points, even felt strong arms gripping his body, but as he slipped in and out of consciousness he lost track of how much time had passed, where he was, or what was happening. Things had melted together, the perceptions of all his senses turned into a singular mush from which he could not discern anything. He didn't know how much time had passed before the movements had stopped, before the strong arms put him down and things were no longer mushy and fuzzy but hard and cold. 

He felt the hard, uneven surface he was on, the cool evening air surrounding him.

As the tranquilizer slowly eased it's iron grip on Geoff's body, he cracked open an eye to try and make sense of what had happened. 

Everything was darker than it was when he had been taken, they must have carried him for quite a while from the Cessna. Twilight bathed the small clearing he was apparently on in an eerie glow. Carefully, not making a sound, Geoff glanced around. There were several figures standing just outside his clear line of sight, and as he minutely shifted his head, they became somewhat recognizable.

There were two tall, muscular young men whom he did not recognize, but Geoff recognized their type. They were the cult's bodyguards, members themselves. Geoff couldn't help but be reminded of some of the young men he'd met in the military- impressionable and raised to believe in a cause without question. Those were always the most obedient soldiers, but also the ones who most often made their way home in boxes. Ideals make for a great weapon, but these men were never taught to shield themselves.  
Geoff would have almost felt bad for those two, if they hadn't most likely been the ones to hit him with the tranq. With not a small dose of bitterness Geoff reflected on the fact that, a few years ago, he'd never let this happen. But his guard had been down, he'd been too focused on finding Nic to try and preserve his own wellbeing. Maybe, just maybe, him and those boys in the cult weren't that different. Maybe believing strongly enough in something, or  _someone_ would always bring everyone down to their knees, make them vulnerable. And _maybe_ , Geoff thought in his drug-induced contemplation, that wasn't always such a bad thing.

Next to the men were three girls, maybe in their early twenties, all dressed in crisp white dresses. They looked wild despite the rather strict and traditional garments, their hair uncombed and their postures tense, as if they were ready to strike at a moment's notice- feral spirits trapped in petite figures. What was more worrying still were the knives they were all holding in their hands as they listened to the man in front of them speak.

The man- Paul, Geoff knew- was dressed in his ordinary clothing, looking as ordinary as he always did. Clean-shaven, pale skin paired with an unmemorable face, average in height and everything else. He filled Geoff with unease despite his apparently easygoing attitude and  _normal_ aura. Something about that man was unnerving from the first second he'd stepped into Geoff's life.

And now there he was, passionately speaking to the group of five in front of him as the air around Geoff grew colder. His body couldn't even shiver properly because of the presence of the drug. Moving his fingers and toes was a good sign, but at this rate it would take hours before Geoff was able to move independently.

The hard stone beneath him was also cooling down even further, and Geoff lost his train of thought for a moment as he focused on the sensation.

The group had turned, and Paul was saying something that Geoff's ears picked up but his brain couldn't decipher, and they were moving towards him. Paul was checking an ancient-looking pocket watch, taking a look at the darkening sky and the stars that were just starting to appear overhead. He spoke again, and this time Geoff heard him, the words seemed to reverberate in his skull.

_It's time._

The men were suddenly on either side of his body, turning him onto his back and pinning him there, as if he could move even an inch with whatever they'd shot him with still in his system.

Sharp metal blades glinted in the women's hands, jagged blades attached to ornate handles looking utterly horrifying in their calloused hands. Geoff knew what was coming, his mind racing, trying to come to terms with the concept of his imminent death. So this was it. " _Well fuck, at least I go out in style_ " he thought, somehow at peace. Sure, they'd gotten to him, but aside from the cultists and himself, the clearing was empty. Nic was safe.

Geoff averted his eyes from the knives, refusing to look at their faces. 

He looked at the sky. There were stars shining down on him, a reminder of the vastness of everything. He was so small, so what if this was the end? If he died facing the stars he could say he died happy. Even when he was on the front, the night's sky always provided comfort. He let the feeling of peace wash over him. The stars reflected in Geoff's dark eyes, and he simply enjoyed the view.

And then, of course, Paul had to ruin everything. The man's face was suddenly in Geoff's field of vision, looming overhead, obstructing the view of the sky.  _"Motherfucker.",_ Geoff thought, completely and utterly pissed. " _Can't even let me fucking die in fucking peace, NO, instead i have to look at his creepy goddamn face before I die"._

Paul's voice rang through the clearing, the language foreign, the words full of awe, washing over everything like a hymn. He continued chanting, the other members joining in from time to time.

" _Well, that sounds fucking rehearsed. Perfect, just damn peachy. Good to know this isn't just a random night out for them. Real flattering."_

And then the blades bit into his flesh. They ripped through his clothes messily, three at once, making it impossible to focus on anything except the pain. All three women were slicing at him, chanting all the while. The sensation of three serrated blades independently digging into his front was horrific, but also confounding. Why weren't they stabbing? The cuts burned like hell, but they were not as deep as they should be to kill him. Did these sick fucks really want to make sure he suffered before giving him the finishing blow? Was a  _coup de grace_ frowned upon in the cult's belief system?

He felt the blood dripping down his sides, saturating his shirt. And then it flowed onto the stone.

Within a fraction of a second, all the air seemed to be sucked out of the clearing. In its place there was a sick weight, pressing down on him and worming its way into his lungs, burning all the way and leaving him nauseous. The air felt dead. Like it had been dead for millennia, cut off from the world and left to rot.

The cultists had stopped cutting him, each finished with her part of the image, as if Geoff's bloody torso were a collaborative art project. Paul had finally shut up with his chant, and his face was now even closer to Geoff's.

For an insane cult leader, Paul managed to look freakishly composed. He smiled slightly at Geoff, as if he hadn't just restrained him on a stone slab and sliced him open. Geoff was laying in a puddle of his own blood by now, it flowed in quick rivulets down his sides and down the uneven stone.

Paul leaned to his ear, his voice even except for a slight tremor of excitement as he whispered "Thank you. Tell Nicodemus we are grateful that he provided us with a sacrifice of real value, even if he himself refused to join us. The sacrifice is still his, and Tanis has accepted it."

No sound would escape Geoff's mouth, even as he begged any higher power for the ability to scream at Paul, to tell him to stay the fuck away from Nic, or even to bite the asshole's nose off.

"Remember us, Geoff Van Sant. We remember your brother, and his failure. We will remember you, and Nicodemus as well." Paul said more loudly, the other five joining him, "There are wondrous things".

And with that, they left him, he followed them with his eyes until they stepped out of the clearing, nearly skipping with excitement.  Geoff's chest was burning, his breaths uneven as he fought against the exhaustion that had overtaken him, still unable to move properly. Grunting and using all his strength, Geoff crawled inch by inch to the edge of the stone, trying to climb down and instead dropping unceremoniously to the ground. The impact wasn't that strong, but it felt like a kick to the chest when he landed on his back. 

Only then, looking up, did Geoff notice the stars again. It felt as if he had noticed them for the first time in his life, as if he had never seen the night's sky before- the stars were  _wrong._ Constellations misplaced, some stars burning too brightly, others missing completely.

His heart skipped a beat. Then another. And then Geoff Van Sant- finally witnessing what his brother had given his life up for- passed out.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW.  
> i know.  
> i had to get back into the groove somehow. showing geoff's POV seemed like the best way. it's not a cliffhanger if you already know what happens next from Nic's chapters, right?  
> I love you all


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* so...ummmm, i'm back? in my defense, I hadn't realized I was about to hit the three month mark and I am sorry. Wow this was a hiatus and a half, but now exam season is finished, I'm on a train to my mum's for the weekend and I have my laptop with me so it's the perfect time to actually write something. 
> 
> Also, how about that new season?? My mind was mostly going 'geoff geoff geoff where are you...nooooooo geoff' and that, too made me want to bring this baby back to life.
> 
> Comments are what keeps me writing even when the creativity machine is broken so pls

Nic wasn't panicking. No. He was concerned, and his breath was shuddering out of his lungs as he forced himself to breathe somewhat evenly, his hands were clammy with sweat and his field of vision was narrowed down to only what was directly in front of him, ears ringing. But he wasn't panicking, surely. Just a bit hopped up on adrenaline and dizzy from dehydration. How much time had he spent in the forest by now? How long since he'd entered the clearing? It could've been hours or days- Nic wouldn't have known the difference either way. 

Despite all the symptoms of totally-not-panic, Nic was surprisingly clearheaded. Or perhaps not that surprising, seeing as his entire world had seemed to snap back into place as one Geoff Van Sant- beaten and bloodied, still groggy from whatever the hell he'd been drugged with- opened his eyes, the effort it took him to do so clearly visible across his face. Nic's hands were immediately at the back of his head, offering support as Geoff tried to hoist himself up. If he'd been more aware of anythig he might have noticed that Nic had basically been cradling his upper body in his lap, but his dark eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were still unfocused- staring out into the distance, as if seeing something miles away. Nic gently moved him into a sitting position, letting him lean against the stone altar as Geoff tried to breathe and focus.

Nic used his sudden clarity of mind to assess the situation. He was exhausted, every muscle in his body in agony from the hours of trekking through the woods with no food or water, only dark shadows and whispers to keep him company. On the other hand, Geoff had suffered blood loss, unconsciousness, dehydration and god knows what else for however long he'd been exposed to the elements on that stone. There wasn't enough energy to walk away from the clearing between the two of them, let alone to hike through the woods for hours in order to find out where they are and how to get away. Odds are, his phone's battery is dead. Even more likely, there's no signal worth mentioning, not this deep into the woods. They'll have to work something out, and soon. Even if the air was no longer as thick and clammy as it had been when Nic'd entered it, he still didn't want to be there any longer than absolutely unavoidable. Not with Geoff's chest carrying the sigil from the Voynich manuscript, and not with all the insane shit Nic was so certain he'd experienced while getting there.   
His certaintly about the humming he'd heard in his head was slowly slipping away, though. Surely none of that was possible, it was just his mind playing along with his worst fears, conjuring up monsters just outside of his field of vision in order to justify the soul-crushing terror he was feeling as he'd looked for Geoff. Once they were out of here he could think. But before that, Nic had to figure out a way to get them out of the woods. 

Geoff's breathing had evened out somewhat- in the time it took Nic's mind to spin wildly out of control as he tried to figure out a way to get them to safety, Geoff had managed to slip back into himself, at least a little. Enough to realise the circumstances he was in. Or rather, they were in. Because Nic was there. Nic had found him. Against all odds, Nic Silver had managed to find him in the middle of fuck-all. A careful glance down at his own chest explained the burning pain. Huh. At least he wasn't dead, but the way those wounds looked, they were going to scar like a bitch. Assuming, of course, that they would both live long enough for that to be an issue. Because given the way Nic looked- his curls matted to his head, the paleness of his skin obvious even in the darkness- they probably weren't getting up for a while longer.  
Nonetheless, he had to try. He had to be strong, especially for Nic's sake, because Nic looked minutes away from a mental breakdown, judging by how hard he was trying to look calm and in control. Geoff couldn't do much in his current state, but by god, he'd try. As opposed to Nic, he actually had combat experience. He could do this.

The first attempt he made at opening his mouth to speak resulted in a choked off rasp, followed by a cough that felt like a punch to the gut. Nic's hands were on him again, offering support as Geoff steadied himself a bit. Alright, he'd just have to try again. Nic's eyes were blown wide in worry. Geoff knew he had to manage to get out words in order to alleviate at least part of the terror in those eyes. Something to ground Nic, to assure him that Geoff was really there, aware of his surroundings and not drugged off his ass.

He let his head tip back against the cool stone of the altar. The next breath he let out sounded a little like a breathy chuckle, and then Geoff managed to form the first words in hours that weren't pained screams or whimpers.  
"Fuck".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back, babes! I'll edit this one once I'm off the train, but I really need to publish it now, or I never will.  
> How obvious is it that i had to reread my own chapters to remember my own style? How have i not written in three months? I mean I had a new year's floof fic ready for y'all and then my computer decided to flat out murder my soul and delete it all. Is it too late to do a Valentine's ficlet? Tell me if u want it pals, your wish is my command


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough cough* so like.... it's been a while... again... i'm sorry? Not to be too ff.net circa 2009 but here's another long author's note:  
> I totally intended to update sooner, the fandom is wonderful and i always want more tanis content buuuuut college is a Thing. Well, now that we're roughly a week away from Terry Miles breaking into my dorm and leaving the balcony door open before smacking me over the head with a printed copy of this fic, this ode to Geoff|*spoilers*Karl, and telling me that I was a fool for believing in love; I simply HAVE TO update this universe to make up for the fact that the canon one wants to destroy my soul.
> 
> Take a fucking sip, babes. No actually don't, that tea has lsd in it! Wait! No, don't--! Dammit, Nic

The thing about being stuck in a dark forest that may or may not be the current vessel of an eldritch entity that has been a scourge upon the earth for millennia is that, no matter how hard you might try to focus, time and space don't really  _work_. Nic was fairly certain he should have seen this coming, given the fact that he'd spent decidedly unhealthy amounts of time roaming said forest before. In a way, he did know what he was getting into, but the situation had been too dire to postpone his one-man rescue mission until, say,  _dawn_. Nic could barely remember when and how he'd entered the woods today (was it today? it must have been. They haven't seen sunlight in what feels like days, despite being in the open. It must have been today. Anything else makes no sense.), and he most certainly couldn't remember whatever winding paths he'd taken to the clearing with the bloodied stone altar.

Operating under the assumption that there  _are_ supernatural forces at play, Nic supposed, he should also take into account that the clearing he'd stepped into was not the one he'd seen while watching it from the treeline. Based on Geoff's garbled stream of profanities accompanied by several pieces of vital information, the clearing had  _changed_ for him as well, once--. Well, once  _fucking_ Cult of Tanis Paul had sicced his knife-wielding maniacs on him.

And Geoff... well, Geoff was looking a  _lot_ worse for the wear. Nic had done his best to remove the tattered shirt and wipe away the excess blood, placing pressure on the cuts that were still oozing some blood, and trying not to get any dirt and soil onto the others. Nic had done what he could, but it wasn't a lot. Luckily, Geoff wasn't fading in and out of conscience as much anymore. Nic had absolutely no idea how long they'd been like this, in this clearing where the air still seems dead, leaning against the stone block, now covered in dry, dark blood. Maybe Nic's been supporting Geoff's weight, his head resting against Nic's shoulder (no small feat given their usual height difference, but getting stabbed repeatedly had taken away some of Geoff's immaculate military posture, making him hunch over and curl into himself) for half an hour, or maybe half a day. Nic has no way of telling. Except for the fact that Geoff's mind is clear; his body is in pain, but also gloriously  _alive_ and stopping the blood loss successfully.

Nic holds him less tightly now that he's awake. Nic doesn't allow himself to stare at Geoff's face with all his emotions, all his fear and worry, flickering clearly across his tired face- not now that Geoff is staring back at him, warm brown eyes still slightly dazed, but _present_.

They're both exhausted, and if it weren't for the very air of this clearing reminding them of death, they might fall asleep here. Leaning on an altar, stained with blood and mud, hungry, tired and in pain-- they could just close their eyes, lean on each other some more, and let this all fade. Nic thinks this, and as he does he knows, he  _knows_ that this isn't what he wants to do. This isn't why they're both here. They didn't endure all this horror just to fold their cards and allow themselves to slip away quietly into that good night.  They needed a plan, and by god, they needed one quickly.

 

When Geoff had regained consciousness he hadn't offered up the most poetic recounting of events at first. No, instead it was mostly cursing out Paul and his Cult and the woods and this entire thing. He didn't however, not even for a second, blame Nic.  _Of course he wouldn't_ , Nic thought,  _Geoff 's too good for anyone, but also too kind for his own good- unable to see I'm just a constant source of bad news and distress._  He told Nic what he could remember, how he'd been brought to this place; it wan't much, his memory a blur from whatever drugs they'd dosed him with.

Instead of placing blame, he told Nic about the stars. Told him about the way the air seemed to get sucked out of the clearing as soon as his blood had struck the stone. He told Nic everything, despite his voice being strained, and his parched throat getting tighter and tighter as he told Nic in a small voice: "Once I'd looked up, you know, once I'd seen this sky, this fucking bizarro-heaven, I... I was going to let it happen. I guess- no, actually, I  _know,_ I know that it wasn't all _me_  thinking this, but this voice in my head was just telling me it was alright. That I'd gotten to where Karl had always wanted to be. Before I passed out I was..fuck, Nic, I was  _happy._ I could feel my own heart not beating and I _didn't care_...I can't even bring myself to care _now_ ".

Now, Nic needed to be the strong one. He'd relied on Geoff a lot, and had always counted on him being a solid presence, an immovable object to the universe's unstoppable forces; seemingly persevering effortlessly even through the carnage of war and the pain of losing a brother. And now Geoff was telling him that he had been ready to let go, to give in and let himself be carried away. Now was not the time for Nic's insecurities- for his worries about not being a good enough friend, not worth caring about, and especially not worthy of Geoff. Instead, Nic would prove himself. He had the chance, the responsibility to fix at least one of his messes, and to save Geoff. 

"We need to get up". This seemed like a solid enough first step, but Nic knew that even that might take them more energy than they had. The air in his lungs felt heavier as he said it. Nic swallowed down the bile, and glared at the unfamiliar stars that seemed to mock him.

"Do you think you can stand? Geoff? Listen to me, okay? This place doesn't want us to leave so-" a wet coughing fit interrupted Nic, almost choking him, "  _we need to get up. And leave._ If we can just step out of the clearing-" another cough, this one more of a heave, as if his body were trying to rid itself of whatever toxic presence was nestled so deep in his lungs by now. The coughing gave Nic a moment to consider. _What then?_ He had no guarantee that they'd be  _back_ once they reached the edge of the clearing. More frighteningly, whatever dark flickering forms had followed him around the woods might appear again once they left this bubble. Maybe the Blur would return, maybe they'd get ripped to pieces, or maybe Tanis would conjure up a completely new, previously unseen Hell for them. 

"- if we can get out of this  _fucking clearing_ we might at least have a shot." Nic finished with a deep exhale, knowing full well that it was a flimsy hope. 

"Yeah? Or we might die. Buddy, I can't promise I can make it out of this clearing, and I definitely can't promise I'll make it out of these woods alive. Your odds might be better alone" Geoff said, still propped up against Nic's shoulder and breathing rather heavily.

"That's not an option, and you know it. I don't care what your military training might tell you. I can't care about odds right now, and if it weren't for this place trying to keep us complacent you wouldn't either. We're either both getting out of this, or we're not getting out at all." The strength Nic had had to muster up to say this, as the air was constricting around him, was considerable. Somehow he had managed. The energy of the clearing seemed even darker now, clearly unhappy with the way things were going.  _Well, I can't stop now_ , Nic thought, and so he kept going:

"Do you feel it? This place wants to keep us here, to make us part of its stale, dead  _whatever._ It wouldn't be trying this hard if it thought we didn't have a shot at escaping. Come on, _Geoff, please_ ". Geoff looked like he was trying to listen to two people speaking at him at the same time, except in different languages and both about the worst things in his life. Nic saw the pain in his eyes as Geoff straightened his back, no longer leaning on Nic; he was slowly attempting to get up. As he was no longer in Nic's grasp he seemed to flounder, the decisiveness in his eyes flickered, overpowered by pain now. They were getting out together, or not at all. Nic forced his own spine to straighten, to offer support, to allow him to fight the overwhelming presence of decay. He grasped Geoff's shoulder with one hand, and pushed himself off against the altar with the other. The blood seemed flaky now. He met Geoff's grateful gaze as the other man used him for support again. After maybe a few moments, or maybe a lifetime, they were both standing. Or at least meeting the broadest possible definition for standing. Leaning onto each other, hunched, coughing, bleeding, but _alive._ Nic could feel Geoff's eyes on him. He looked up to meet his eyes, and they mirrored what he himself was feeling. _We're alive_ , that look said,  _we're alive and we're staying that way because nothing else will make this fucking place angrier._  

Geoff's voice was still filled with that forlorn sadness forced onto him by the clearing, but the words were his own: "Let's get the fuck out of this place, Nic, we're not done yet". And so they went.

 

It took longer than a ten yard walk could ever, under any logical circumstances, take. Even for two bruised, beaten and exhausted men, it should never take that long. But time and space don't  _work as they should here_ , Nic mentally remarked. Each step they took felt like walking through quicksand, even with the feeling of the other's hands offering support. It seemed as if every time they reached the halfway point towards the edge of the clearing the distance increased again, or maybe in Tanis they would be forced to live out Zeno's paradox of only ever being able to cross another half of the remaining way, never reaching the end, as the fractions of the remaining way to go became smaller and smaller, but would never reach zero as each fragment was halved again. Maybe they would be crossing half of the final inch until eternity. Nic wasn't sure if he'd been saying this all out loud, if time was really moving more slowly, or if they were.

 

As they both grew more desperate and clutched at each other more tightly, neither Nic nor Geoff noticed when they stepped out at first. Then they immediately noticed everything, all at once. The woods at night might seem quiet, but as they stumbled out of the dead pocket of reality they'd been in, it seemed to be screaming with life. The gentle rustle of wind in the leaves felt like a jet engine flying by their heads, the quiet footfalls of small nocturnal creatures were like the pounding of thousands of hooves in a stampede.

Both men unceremoniously fell to their knees as they struggled to cope with the sudden onslaught of sensation. Geoff curled his body over Nic's as much as he could in a futile attempt to shield the other man from at least some of the sensory overload. They both shuddered through the noise, and the smells, and the feeling of air flowing freely through their lungs.

Just as they'd both managed to slowly adjust, a new stimulus hit them with even more intensity than the gentle sounds of nature. The horrible synthetic noise, accompanied by vibrations that sounded to them like the gates of hell opening, and the garish blue-white light assaulting their corneas. It took them even more time to gather themselves and to extract the device from Nick's jacket, and the music (at least they were able to recognize it as music at this point) was blaring. The illuminated screen showed a battery indicator  _deep_ in the red, and a single pathetic bar of signal. But most importantly, the display read:

**_MK Calling_ **

as the phone kept buzzing and ringing. Despite being overwhelmed, Nic possessed the mental faculties necessary to do the one thing he really, really needed to. He picked up the second his fingers were willing to respond to his brain's request to do so.

 

" _WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN. You dropped off the grid, no signal, no nothing. It's been hours. I'm not saying I was worried but for fuck's sake, Nic, unless you've been in a fucking tunnel for the past six hours you better explain where the fuck you found a black-hole of reception that erased any trace of your phone existing for that long. I'm tracking you right fucking now if you don't start speaking. Nic? I'm serious, all I've had for the past few hours was a cell-tower ping a few minutes before any trace of you vanished. Nic? Are you there?"_

Nic was attempting to for words, but his lungs weren't playing along; seemingly unwilling to do their job properly in an environment where he could actually breathe- they had gotten used to the stale, heavy air, it would seem. He coughed a few times, but words wouldn't leave his mouth.

" _Oh fucking Christ Nic you better not be dying. I can't help you if you're dead. Come on Nic, talk to me. I can't track you yet, all I'm getting from this call is the fucking cell tower again. Nic? You're there, please, if you can turn on your fucking GPS. Turn it on and stay the fuck where you are. Okay, Nic? I'll track you and I'll get you out of there, just give me the opportunity."_

His hands seemed more ready to cooperate than his mouth, despite shaking. One swipe, one tap and the icon illuminated. The battery was almost drained, but as Nic collapsed against Geoff's side again they could both hear MK's relieved voice as she began tracking the signal.

Just before the light of the phone dimmed and they both lost their grasp on consciousness, for god knows what time that day; they heard her voice, somewhat tinny and robotic from the bad reception, saying " _I've got you. I'm coming for you, okay? Just hang in there, I know where you are and I'm getting you out. Just wait, I'll be there"._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MK ex machina, except not because this is Totally Canon Behaviour (unlike ~certain comments regarding mental facilities, Terry...~)  
> I think this might be the longest chapter I've posted for this so far? And I'm pretty happy with it? Huge thanks to the discord server for existing tbh, if it weren't for the knowledge that this fandom is so alive and full of brilliant folks I wouldn't be writing for it
> 
> p.s., the ringtone is totally tainted love

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up at failedfinals on tumblr if you liked, hated or were ambivalent about the story. I take prompts if you want. Tell me what to do with this piece of shit down in the comments


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